


burning up until we're ashes

by jackgyeoms



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Fili, Durin Family Feels, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Female Thorin Oakenshield, Female Character of Color, Female Thorin Oakenshield, Foster Care, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, There was a fire - it did not end well, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackgyeoms/pseuds/jackgyeoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bilbo Baggins was used to the looks on children’s faces when they stood at her front door.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>A fire devastates the Durinson family. Thorin struggles to cope with the loss. Bilbo is the foster mother who takes in Fili and Kili.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shepherd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/gifts).



> so I desperately wanted to write some lesbian bagginshield, and this is what happened! 
> 
> Warnings for each chapter will be at the end if needed, but overall there are warnings for **grief/mourning** , **PSTD** and **trauma**.

 

Bilbo Baggins was used to the looks on children’s faces when they stood at her front door. She’d had the fearful, the exhausted, the nervous, the angry – and some variants of all four. She’d learnt how to smile, how to soften her voice, how to soothe and calm and, hopefully, make things easier.

It was a practised smile that hovered in place when she answered that afternoon. “Bard,” she greeted warmly.

The social services worker returned it, “Bilbo,” and ducked his head to speak to the boys barely reaching his waist. “Kili, Fili, this is Miss Bilbo Baggins. She’ll be looking after you for a time.”

“And looking forward to doing it,” she assured.

Their story had been sent to her via email. Philip and Killian Durinson, eight and five respectively. A house fire had claimed their family during a weekend gathering – that one she’d seen on the news. There had been only four survivors; their mother - currently comatose - an aunt currently unfit to care, and the boys.

Fili, hair bright and wild, like a mane around his dark face, spoke first. “Hi.”

Kili, messy braids hanging down his back with coloured plastic ties at the ends, turned his head into his brother’s shoulder and didn’t speak.

Bilbo wasn’t about to push them. She stepped back, hurried them in and spoke of the spread she had set out. It was a tradition - teas and cakes and little sandwich for the initial meeting. Food, her father had always said, eased the soul, and Bilbo took that to heart. She thought it worked, when Kili pulled away from his brother and his eyes widened with awe at the cupcakes she and Ori had spent the day before making.

Fili helped his brother into one of the seats at the table, before taking his own, and they looked so small there, faces solemn and yet barely reaching above the table top. She encouraged them to eat, take what they wanted, and let her smile brighten when Fili hesitated only for a second before grabbing a ham sandwich. Kili reared up for the cakes and might have sent them flying if not for Bard’s quick hands.

“Boys, why don’t you introduce yourselves to Miss Baggins?” Bard urged. He had a natural affinity where troubled young children were concerned. The man had been around when her mother was the head of the house, a smiling beacon of excitement that never seemed contented until the house was full to the brim with children and their noise. He knew the foster parents on more than just professional levels, brought the cases that fell across his desk to those best suited. Bilbo took it as a compliment that he thought her best when he called.

“I’d love to know more about you,” she encouraged with a smile.

There was a long silence, filled with slow chewing and Bilbo thought, for a moment, perhaps they wouldn’t answer. It was known to happen. When Tauriel had come to them, just a few months before, she had been stubborn in her quietness. Kept her head down and her mouth shut. She’d stared through Bilbo as if she wasn’t even there. It was a level of control that had been unnerving, and it wasn’t something the ten year old seemed confident with letting go of. She was though, slowly but surely. If Bilbo had to wait to find out about her charges, she would.

But then a little voice – “I like pirates.”

Bilbo smiled at Kili. “Like Jake and the Neverland pirates?”

The boy nodded shyly, and nibbled at the ends of the icing he’d peeled off his cake.

“We watch that here a lot,” she assured. “I always have trouble counting all the coins.”

“I don’t,” Kili admitted, voice slightly louder, face slightly brighter.

“Next time we watch, you’ll have to help me,” Bilbo told him, and the boy seemed contented with it. She turned to his brother. “And what about you Fili? Do you like pirates?”

“Yeah.” He spoke softly, hesitated and added, “I like Scooby Doo better.”

“You like the mysteries?” she questioned.

Fili nodded once, and Kili piped in with, “Grandpa got Fili a mystery machine last Christmas, but he never lets me play with it.”

“That’s because you’d break it,” Fili pressed back and then sunk a little lower into his seat, a frown heavy when he added, “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. It’s gone.”

Gone. It was such a harsh word. Bilbo hated it. She’d grown up with children whose families had always been just gone; would wake up some days and find those very kids just gone. Her own mother had just gone, sickness taking her in her sleep, as peaceful as it could ever have been wished for, and she’d echoed that very word to Bofur when she’d found her the next morning. It was what took the lightness from Kili’s face and replaced with something broken. It was what caused the heavy tension, as if talk of pirates and mysteries and cakes had never happened.

Bilbo pressed her lips together. “Not gone. Simply in a place we haven’t looked yet.”

Neither seemed terribly heartened by her words, but she would work on that.

“I want Mama,” Kili whispered sadly.

Fili demanded, “Why can’t we stay with Auntie Thorin?”

Bilbo shared a look with Bard. He tilted his head, silently conceding her to handle the situation. She stood from her chair, walked until she could crouch between the two boys. Kili looked at her with tears in his eyes, and Fili with a harsh line to his jaw. She wanted to reach out, hold them close, dry their eyes and try to make things better for however short a time it was allowed. But she couldn’t, not without their permission, so she clasped her hands in front of her and tried as best she could.

“Your Aunt Thorin,” she said, “isn’t up to the task of looking after you both right now. I know that she wants to, desperately wants to,” Bilbo hoped that wasn’t a lie - she’d been faced with that a few times, “just as your mother wishes she could be here too. But you both have been dealt a terrible hand. The worst kind. So while your mother, and Aunt Thorin are getting better, you need somewhere else to stay, someone else to look after you. I want to be that person.”

Fili rubbed at his eyes viciously and Kili sniffed pathetically. Bilbo couldn’t resist, held out her hand and let Kili cling to it. She rubbed her thumb as softly across the back of his little hand as she could manage and continued.

“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to; no one is going to force you. But I think you could be happy here, if only for a little while. You’ll have your own room, toys to play with. There are two others here, just like you – a boy about your age, called Ori, and a girl a little older, Tauriel. They’re really excited to meet you.”

“And,” Bard piped in carefully, “I’m sure wherever you chose to stay, your aunt will come and visit. She was quite insistent upon it.”

“Mama said that Aunt Thorin is stubborn,” Fili muttered, stumbled over his words a little.

“Then she would stop at nothing to see you,” Bilbo spoke confidently. “This is just temporary, boys, until your aunt is better, okay?”

Fili nodded miserably and Kili hiccupped through, “What if she doesn’t get better? Like Mama? Mama wouldn’t wake up.”

Fili reached out to grasp his brother, everything in his face screaming agony. Bilbo shushed him gently, squeezed his hand. “Sometimes, sleep is what’s needed to get better.”

Noises from upstairs drew her attention, and really, she should have known that Toy Story wouldn’t have kept those two distracted for long. Ori might be content to sit and watch and wait, but Tauriel was older, was coming out of her shell, and Bilbo wasn’t going to be the one to usher her back in. Her eyes went to the ceiling and she let out a sigh.

“I suppose I should go check on my troublemakers,” she told them lightly. She straightened up, dug into her back pocket and produced a handkerchief to press into Kili’s hands. He clung to it tightly. “If you three will excuse me?”

Bard nodded once, and she took her leave. On the landing, eyes stared back at her.

“Are they going to stay?” Tauriel asked quietly.

Bilbo glanced back to the dining room, her view of the boys blocked by the wall so she could only see Bard and his gentle smile, leaning forward to speak. Her attention returned. “Maybe,” she said. “We’ll have to see.”

Tauriel nodded slowly, her ponytail bobbing. “The movie ended,” she said.

“I guess we’ll have to go put on another one.” Bilbo started her hike up the stairs.

Tauriel scrambled to her feet and stood at Bilbo’s side. She was getting taller, sprouting up like a sunflower. She was only a few inches shorter than her carer now, but that didn’t stop Bilbo from running a hand over the top of her head affectionately. “Ori wants to watch Snow White again.”

“He does love those dwarves,” Bilbo replied lightly.

The six year old was half buried under a pile of duvets and pillows. He sat up a little straighter when Bilbo entered. “I stay here, just like you asked!” he insisted. She praised him and kissed his forehead and smiled when he shyly asked whether he could watch Snow White. Tauriel took a place beside him, stealing some of the mass from around him, but Ori didn’t seem to mind, not once the opening music had started and he was sucked into the world of Disney.

She watched them for a moment, just to be sure, before she made her way downstairs. There was a murmur of voices that stopped when she entered. Eyes turned and left Bilbo feeling more than a little like an intruder in her own home. But still, she smiled, and nattered about Disney movies and Ori’s blanket fort until her own tensions eased.

Kili looked at Fili with wide eyes then, who looked at Bard. The man nodded once, and the two kids slide from their seats to come and face her. They held hands, grips tight; a united front.

“Miss Boggins,” Fili said carefully, and she didn’t have the heart to correct him. “We want to stay here, until Auntie Thorin can look after us, if that’s okay.”

Bilbo beamed and agreed. Fili attempted to return the smile, and Kili blinked at her. Bard was smiling too, squeezing their shoulders encouragingly.

When he made to leave, she could hear Fili’s voice. “Promise you’ll let her know where we are.”

“Address, phone number, email address,” Bard listed and vowed.

Bilbo met him in the hall. “They’ll be okay,” she reassured, pulled her cardigan around herself as she folded her arms across her chest.

His head bobbed in a nod. “I know. They’re in safe hands.” He lowered his voice to add; “If I pass on details, I’m sure you’ll be able to work out visitation rights yourself?”

“Of course,” Bilbo agreed. “Is there anything I should know?”

Bard shook his head. “Thorin is a good woman. A little…on edge after the, well, everything.”

“I can imagine,” she murmured. “I won’t ask for specifics.”

“Do you really need them?”

Bilbo thought to the case report she had received, to the footage of rising flames and flashing lights, and shook her head. “No, I think I know quite enough, thank you.”

Bard squeezed her shoulder. “The boys have therapy sessions every Wednesday at four,” he reminded, and she hummed her understanding. Again, not uncommon occurrence.

The social service worker unloaded two suitcases – tiny, didn’t seem like enough to hold an entire life, and she wondered just how much had been lost in that fire – and left them in her passageway before bidding everyone goodbye. The door shut with such finality, and it was just her and her kids once more. She turned with a wide smile, and the doorway seemed so much bigger with their little forms standing at it. It always did.

Clapping her hand, she asked, “Would you like to see your room?”

They carried their own bags, insisted upon it. Fili was big enough that his own could be lifted with ease, but Kili was still so little that he struggled. But no one stopped him from climbing his mountain, even if each step was taken twice as slow.

Bilbo had made up a room the day before when she’d received the notification. It was one of the larger ones, now holding two singles and other basics that she hoped would be enough to help the boys settle. Trauma, she knew, had you clinging, and it had seemed sensible to make the chance. Glad for it now, she thought and glanced back.

“Ta-da!” she presented, pushing the door open and, after a moment of pause, the two wandered inside. Kili dropped his bag heavily at his feet, and latched his now freed hands on Fili’s arm.

“Is this it?” Fili commented quietly.

Bilbo flinched. “I – well, yes. It’s our biggest, I thought you might want to stay together. A-and tomorrow, we could go into town and pick up new bedsheets and posters – maybe something with pirates.”

Kili looked interested at her, had loosened his grip. Fili’s lips were pressed together but he didn’t say anything else.

“That was rude,” Tauriel’s voice came from the doorway. It made the two jump in surprise, Fili’s suitcase dropping with a clutter. Bilbo felt her heart lurch in her chest for a moment, hand pressing there as if she could force it to calm.

“What?” Fili spluttered.

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed a little, and she repeated herself. Ori fluttered at her side, eyebrows angled downwards and hands wringing in front of him. “You should apologise. Miss Baggins tries.”

And didn’t that sound oh so pathetic. She rolled embarrassment around her mouth and swallowed it before she trusted herself to speak. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on people, Tauriel?” she sighed.

The girl didn’t answer.

“We just wanted to meet the new people,” Ori said apologetically.

Despite everything, the boy still made it easy to smile at him. “I suppose you all would have met eventually,” she mused. “Fili, Kili, this is Ori and Tauriel. They’re staying here too.”

Tauriel didn’t say a word. Fili was frowning. Ori waved shyly, and Kili attempted a smile. Bilbo rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Wonderful.

“Did you finish Snow White?” Bilbo broke into the silence.

Ori brightened. “Rie paused it.” He stopped and then addressed the brothers, a little quieter, “Y-you can come and watch too, if you want?”

A part of Bilbo wanted to usher them together, as if surrounding the new arrivals with the sweetness of Ori and the care of Tauriel would somehow help them settle in faster. It had worked with some of the other children before, to just let the eldest take control and lead the little ones around like ducklings. But the rest of her knew, just from the way that Fili and Kili seemed to huddle together, that they weren’t quite ready for that yet.

She stepped around them, settled her hand on Ori’s shoulder and squeezed. Her voice was light when she said, “Perhaps we should give the boys a moment to settle in first.”

Ori went wide-eyed and nodded, spoke in a hurried ramble that mostly meant “of course”. She rubbed his forehead until he calmed, and then requested that they return to their movie. Tauriel was still frowning at Fili, but she looked nodded her understanding, took Ori by the hand and led him away. She waited until they’d taken the corner towards the play room, before she turned her attention.

“They’re sweet when you get to know them,” she assured, and received silence in response. Her hand went to her hair and wrapped one of the curls around her fingers. “I…I’ll leave you, shall I? I’ll be in the office – that’s down this corridor and the second door on the left - should you need me. Oh, and the bathroom! Yes, that’s two doors down. If you decide you want to go play, just follow the noise,” she joked. It fell flat.

Her smile faltered at the edges, but she refused to let it drop. “You’ll be fine here, I promise.”

She left with only quiet following her.

~

It took a moment before Kili would release Fili from the grip he had on him. Any other time, Fili might have complained, but things were different now and he clung back just as hard. Miss Baggins had left the door open just a smidge, enough that he could see into the hall but the sight of the unfamiliar put a knot in his stomach that tightened with each passing moment, and lessened only slightly when he pushed the door to.

Behind him, a bed spring creaked. Fili turned to find that Kili had spread out on the bed nearest the window. He would pick that one, he thought, it was the one that was as close to where his old bed had been.

A bed he would never have again. Seeing him there made the backs of his eyes sting, and Fili rubbed at them furiously with his sleeve.

“You heard what Miss Boggins said,” Kili spoke lowly. “It’s only until Auntie Thorin and Mama gets better.”

Fili thought of their mother and how still she had been laying on the grass outside their home, how broken she’d looked on the gurney and how small she’d been with that tube down her throat. _Ventilator_ , Aunt Thorin’s voice came back to him, _to help her breathe_.

 _What if she doesn’t get better_ burned on his tongue and it made him sick to think about, so instead he said, “Auntie Thorin didn’t look sick.”

Kili frowned to the ceiling, eyebrows furrowing together as he thought. “Maybe…maybe she’s got a really bad headache. Mama gets those too.”

Usually when she’s trying to convince the ruckus in the house to stop. It had never bothered Fili how loud Kili could be, because it nothing but a hum without his hearing aid on. He fiddled with it now, and thought about how Aunt Thorin had helped him put it on at the hospital so he could hear the beeping on his mother’s machine.

Still alive.

He hoped it was still like that now.

But he couldn’t know for certain. He’d wanted to stay there, in that room with his Mama and with Aunt Thorin. He’d wanted to stay. But after the police had come Bard. He’d argued with Aunt Thorin for a while, just far enough way that he couldn’t hear anything, no matter how high up he turned the volume on his hearing aid. He didn’t need it though, to see the way that she rung her hands, and bit down on her bottom lip. She hadn’t wanted them to go, she told them that herself, words muffled in their hair as she held them. But they had to.

Fili wanted to hate Bard, hate Miss Boggins, and even while a part of him clung to the idea until it burnt the back of his throat, it was easily soothed. She’d made Kili smile. His brother had fallen into himself in a way that Fili could understand but despised all the same. He hadn’t volunteered information to the police, to the doctors – hadn’t done much more than hold onto coats and skirts and jeans and hide himself away.

I like pirates, he’d said. A few more words, and he had been smiling.

Fili looked at his brother now, and the boy stared back.

“Then I hope she gets over her headache soon,” he spoke blandly, as firmly as he could. He hesitated and then added, “Maybe we can make her a get well soon card.”

Kili brightened. “And Mama too!”

Fili didn’t mention that none of their craft stuff had been salvaged, other than the lollypop stick figurine that had been left on their Mama’s bedside. Instead, he let Kili speak about glitter and what colour hair Mama was going to have – “purple!” he decided gleefully – and just how big this was all going to be. He hummed in all the right places, and dragged their bags to the foot of their beds. He didn’t climb into his own, just laid down beside his brother and wished for a home that wasn’t there anymore.

~

The house was quiet even with all the people who inhabited it. Bilbo spent a few hours in front of a blank canvas, paints spread and paintbrush grasped in hand, until it became obvious that nothing was going to come of it. Her mind was wandering too much to be anything but a distraction.

She thought of Ori, still so shy but trying, and Tauriel, who had her control and her responsibility and little else. Ori who would be leaving as soon as his eldest brother turned eighteen. Tauriel who might not leave until she was. She thought of Fili, who clearly just wanted home, and Kili, who should still be at his mother’s side. She thought of all the things she still needed to do – sort out schooling, scheduling around her work and theirs; therapy sessions, Tauriel’s fencing classes, shopping trips to make them feel more at home. And she did want them to.

Maybe once they’d seen their aunt, things would be easier. Yes, Bilbo decided, they just needed a familiar face, that was all. Still, the thought lingered and the canvas remained blank. The sky darkened outside her window before she conceded with a long sigh and the heavy handed drop of her paintbrush. She tided and went to prepare dinner, stopping only once to shoot a wistful look back at the easel.

It was Tauriel’s choice for dinner tonight, and it was always the same. Fish fingers and chips.

Would Kili and Fili even like fish fingers? The thought took her by surprise, and she threw in a couple of chicken dippers for good measure.

When she called that dinner was ready, Ori and Tauriel scrambled into place. Bilbo smiled at them fondly, and ruffled their hair as she passed. A long while passed and no more joined them. Her lips pressed together into a worried frown and she fretted about whether they were okay, whether they had gotten lost, whether they had fallen asleep and if she should go wake them, when finally they arrived. Kili got to the room first, Fili at a slower pace behind.

“Fish fingers tonight!” she informed happily.

“I don’t like fish,” Fili replied with a small frown.

“Good thing I put chicken dippers on then,” Bilbo continued smoothly. “Sit wherever you want.”

It was quiet. It was something she wasn’t used to. Even with just the two kids in the house, there was always noise. Tauriel would be talking about something that she learned, or retelling a story that she heard; Ori would be listening with wide eyes and questions unable to stop them from sliding off his tongue. But today, both kept their eyes down to their plates, perhaps in deference to their new arrivals.

“It was Tauriel’s choice for dinner today,” Bilbo spoke, desperate to break the silence and her smile was straining when eyes turned to her. “We have a rotation system. We’ll have to shuffle it now we have two more people to consider. Do you have a favourite food?”

“I like pizza,” Kili offered after a long moment.

Bilbo smiled encouragingly. “Yes, pizza is great. What about you Fili?”

He hadn’t looked up, didn’t even act as if he had heard her. Just picked at the food on his plate. From where she sat, she could see the hearing aid settled in his ear, and wondered whether it was even turned on. Bilbo’s smile faltered. Kili looked to his brother and then looked down to his plate, shoulders hunched. Tauriel scowled and Bilbo absentmindedly stroked her hand to calm her. She didn’t want any more conflict.

The next bite of food she took tasted bland.

She didn’t make any more small talk, only asked them to carry their plates into the kitchen for her. She thanked each one in turn, told them that they could go play and then distracted herself by the process of cleaning up.

It was normal, she reasoned, until they see their aunt.

Still, Bilbo lingered until bedtime before she made her way up the stairs. Tauriel and Ori were in the playroom, Beauty and the Beast on the screen. Ori’s head was drooping as he struggled to stay awake – he never could get to the end of this movie, Bilbo thought warmly – and Tauriel had slumped in her seat, eyes blinking tiredly.

“Bedtime,” she told them softly. Ori mumbled about waiting to see the end of the movie, but didn’t complain when Bilbo lifted him into her arms. Settled on her hip, he wrapped his arms around her neck and his head lolled into the crook. Tauriel had pushed herself up, had to come to wrap her hand around Bilbo’s free one.

Bilbo did a sweep of the room. “Where’s Kili and Fili?”

Tauriel gave a one armed shrug. “They didn’t want to watch with us.”

That wasn’t comforting, but she assured the girl that they still needed to adjust to their new situation, and that it was only natural. “I’m sure they’re just in their room,” she said, “I’ll check in after I’ve got you two settled.”

Ori was out before they reached his room, and she had to ask Tauriel to pull back the bedsheets while Bilbo extracted limbs. There was a struggle into bed clothes, but at this point, Bilbo was well versed in getting uncooperative limbs into pyjamas.

Tauriel was in the room across the hall. Bilbo hovered in the doorway while she readied herself, the girl sluggishly dropping day clothes to the floor and replacing them with a nightdress. She wriggled when she got into bed, pulled the clothes up to her neck and then waited for Bilbo to cross the threshold. She smoothed down the duvet and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She clicked the switch that bathed the room in blue light.

“Night Tauriel,” she murmured into the dimmed room. Bilbo closed the door when she left.

She didn’t have to look far for the new arrivals. Their bedroom door was closed, and when she pressed it open, there they were, pressed together on one bed. Heavy but even breathing filled the room, and the light in the hallway brightened the room enough that she could see their relaxed faces. Fili was half buried in his brother’s hair and Kili had his mouth open, snoring into his Fili’s shirt. They hadn’t changed from the day, and a part of Bilbo worried they would wake up uncomfortable, but she couldn’t bear to wake them.

The sheet kicked around their feet though, that she did move, pulled it until it was resting over their chests and made sure they were both covered. Fili snorted, shifted slightly but didn’t awaken. Bilbo lingered, only for a few seconds to enjoy this, before she crept from the room, pulling the door to behind her.

The house always seemed so much bigger once the children were asleep. She being the only point of disruption. Bilbo had always wondered whether this was why Belladonna had become a foster mother in the first place, a steady stream of voices and footfalls that would pierce the fog that seemed to grow there. Had been there since her father had died all those years ago.

She blinked and there was exhaustion that made her eyes itch. Bilbo was quite willing to just do her rounds downstairs, making sure all the doors were locked and the security system was alert and ready, before climbing the stairs to her bedroom. It had been her parent’s old room, and sometimes she felt like a stranger there. The bed springs squeaked when she sat upon them, reminding her once again that she really needed to get a new mattress.

Another worry, for another day.

The only source of light in the room, her clock read eight o’clock. It felt later than that. Perhaps it was the winter days and the darkness that it brought addling her mind. She flicked on a light switch and squinted at the brightness.

She sat for a moment, silence ringing in her ears, and jumped when her phone screeched to life and broke it. Bilbo fumbled, frowned at the number she didn’t recognise but answered the call.

“Hello?”

A shuffling noise before a voice, rough but feminine spoke. “Um, is this Miss Baggins?”

“Yes, who’s speaking?”

“Ah, it’s Thorin Durinson,” the voice informed and Bilbo’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’. “Bard gave me your number, and – I know it’s late. I just,” she stopped short.

Bilbo felt like she should help. “You just wanted to check in? See how the boys were doing?”

“Yes,” Thorin sounded relieved. “Yes, if you – yes.”

She debated lying just to ease some of the worry that was clear in the woman’s voice, but decided that perhaps truth with delicacy was the best way to go. “I think they’d rather be with you, than here.” There was a long silence, and Bilbo wondered whether she’d made the right choice. “I’m sorry that’s not – that’s not what you wanted to hear. Um, they seem to be okay. Fili seems to be taking it the hardest, but he’s the oldest, things tend to be harder for them, but he has Kili to look after so –“

“He has been taking things as hard as can be imagine,” Thorin cut in. “He understands more. Kili is – he’s young enough that he trusts what you tell him.”

Bilbo didn’t know what to say to that, but she tried. “I think Kili’s aware of more than you think.”

A strained laugh. “I hope not.” There was a long pause. “I, Bard said I could see them?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t keep you away from them,” she assured and then hesitated. “But I would like to meet you before. It’s nothing against you, I do it with all extended family – it’s got nothing to do with – I have two other children in the house, one of them an abuse victim and I –“

“There’s a reason why I can’t be trusted with my nephews alone,” Thorin’s voice was bitter and degrading. It made Bilbo flinch and her chest ache.

“I have to be sure before I allow you into my home,” she murmured.

“Is tomorrow acceptable?”

“Tomorrow?” Bilbo shouldn’t have been so surprised. She ran over their schedule for the day. “The children have school, and I have a work shift from 9:30 until 2. We could meet at 3? If all goes well,” she pondered. “Perhaps you could come with me for the school pickups?”

“There’s a coffee shop around the corner from my nephews’ school,” Thorin informed. “ _Grasper & Keeper_. We used to go there all the time…”

There was a horrible weight to those words that had Bilbo agreeing, and the call ended so abruptly that Bilbo had the phone pressed to her ear for a good few seconds, just listening to the dialling tone. She set her phone down with shaking hands, and clasped them together.

The silence returned.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Thorin hadn’t been able to sleep properly since the fire. Six days, she counted. Her eyes would close and all she would see was fire. She’d wake with smoke in her lungs, water in her eyes and a fear so paralysing that she felt it might kill her in the end.

After the third night, she’d tried not to sleep at all. That only made things worse. She couldn’t stop moving for one, as if knowing that should she stop, she might not again. Her diet certainly didn’t help. It was mostly terrible hospital coffee, something that could take the edge off the exhaustion, if only for a few hours at a time. It was all she had within reach – every morning she would wake and journey to the hospital, sit at her sister’s side and hope for some kind of miracle to happen. For eyes to open, to fingers to twitch, just the smallest piece of evidence that she would be fine. Thorin wouldn’t have ever left her sister’s side, if the nurses hadn’t forced her from her vigil. The thought of leaving Dis, even for a moment, made her feel as if she was going to lose her completely this time, but in doing so, she had got that social worker’s – Bowman, she thought his name was, maybe, it was a bit fuzzy -  message. She was grateful for that, at least.

On the steps of the hospital, she had shakily scribbled out the number recited in the voicemail on the back of her hand, and immediately followed up. She hadn’t realised how late it was for such a call until it had been over.

Miss Baggins seemed pleasant enough, soft spoken over the phone. Bowman said that she was one of the best they had on their register, knew her personally, that her nephews would be safe there. Thorin didn’t have a reason to distrust him. She just wished he wasn’t necessary. He shouldn’t have been, she should have been –

Thorin cut off her line of thought there. It wasn’t entirely successful, but her therapist, Dr Peredhel said that it would take time. Thorin hadn’t wanted to go, likely would have fought it until the very end, but they had taken Kili and Fili away from her.

“I don’t have time,” she had snapped at Peredhel’s smooth words.

“You must find it, I’m afraid,” he had replied evenly, “There is no quick fix.”

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. At least it had a name. A name meant it could be helped, and she would get that help, even if it bit at her pride.

For her nephews. For her sister.

She looked to Dis now. So still in her bed. Dis had never been small, never been quiet, had protected her siblings with ferociousness, like she wasn’t the youngest and they were incapable of fighting their own battles. It would drive Frerin mad. It would always end with voices rising in some sort of argument, and Thorin, as the eldest, would of course watch on with amusement.

But now Frerin was dead. Now, Dis had an IV in her arm and a tube shoved down her throat to help her breathe. Thorin swallowed as if she could feel it, and rubbed at her throat absentmindedly. It made white flash across her vision, and she reared back.

Bandages. Right.

Her hand tightened into a fist, and she pushed it into her lap firmly.

Her heart beating in her ears, Thorin spoke just to cover. “I told you the boys were being put into a foster home,” she spoke, her voice hoarse. The words made guilt tighten in her stomach and she had to stop for a few moments before she could continue. “I’m meeting her today. Her name’s Baggins. I don’t know the first. I’m told she’s good. If it all goes well, I should see the boys today.”

A part of her hoped for some kind of response, but it was crushed by laboured breathing.

Thorin wet her lips. “I’ll bring them next time,” she promised. She hesitated and reached out – no bandages - to grasp Dis’ hand.

It was clammy. Heavy.  Lifeless. Thorin squeezed around it as if she could somehow force it into her.

The clock face looked at her. 2 o’clock. She’d have to leave. Her skin itched at the thought. _Fili_ , she reminded herself. _Kili_ , she persisted. She recited their names until she could grit her teeth and stand. She clung to Dis for a few more moments, stroked the back of her hand.

“I’ll be back,” Thorin promised and ducked her head to press a kiss to her forehead. She spent a few moments pulling the sheets up under her arms, tucking her in, before she left.

Thorin walked to _Grasper & Keeper_. It was a good eight blocks from the hospital, but with her hands still shaking, she hadn’t felt strong enough to drive. Her nails bit into the injury for three blocks before she released.

She’d been going to _Grasper & Keeper _since it opened. Dwalin, her closest friend, had put his business degree, and the skills he had learnt at the campus café to pay that degree off, to good use. Thorin had been his first customer. It was familiar ground and just walking over the threshold was enough to have the tension fall from her shoulders. She tugged the scarf from around her neck with one hand and breathed in coffee beans and cinnamon.

She hovered in the queue – a small part of her pleased by it even when regretfully distracted – and forced a smile when she got to the counter. Bombur was serving today. The woman beamed and Thorin found the edges of her smile becoming less taunt.

“Usual?” Bombur teased, and Thorin grunted out agreement, fumbling in her back pocket for the few coins that had yet to find themselves in to her purse. They laid out into her hand to be counted. It took her longer than she wanted. Long enough that Bombur had already placed the coffee on the counter before her and shuffling feet behind her made her head pound and hands sweat. It made it hard to concentrate, her shoulders hunched forward. When she could no longer bear it, she shoved what she did have towards the barista.

Thorin took her drink, pressed the rim to her lips and drank so that she wouldn’t have to speak when she shuffled away.

There was a table in the far corner, and she claimed it for her own. Pressed against the back wall, Thorin could see everything, and it made it easier to unwrap herself from the scarfs and heavy coat that the outside insisted she wore. She took in Bombur talking to the next customer, the handful of people who were loitering at tables, and the long strides of those outside the glass windows, just continuing with their day. She took another sip.

Thorin’s eyes fell to her watch. 2:37. Right. She was early. An unusual occurrence any other time. She had never been good at getting places on time, although a good portion of that was her bad luck with navigation. Frerin had always joked that she wouldn’t be able to find her way out of her own arsehole without a hand to guide her. His voice rang in her eyes, joyous and it made her chest tighten, bittersweet.

Another sip of her drink. It tasted of nothing.

She wasn’t surprised when Dwalin made himself known, lumbering from the depths of the shop towards her. He’d always had a sixth sense for finding her, something years of familiarity had ensured. She pressed the chair in front of her with the edge of her boot until it came away from the table. Dwalin grunted his gratitude, and sat down. Chairs, Thorin mused, always seemed dwarfed by his sheer size.

Arms rested on the table, and Dwalin gave her a once over. “You okay?”

“As well as I can be,” Thorin replied carefully.

Dwalin hummed. “Dis?”

“The same.”

“The boys? Balin said you’re meeting the foster mother?”

“Carer,” Thorin corrected, voice tight and shoulders hunching. “And yeah. Here. Soon.”

Dwalin’s lips pressed together. “I thought you had to wait until that Pere guy cleared you?”

“Technically yes,” she interjected, “But if Miss Baggins agrees, I can have visitation rights.” She had made sure of that before she had agreed to anything. She clenched her fingers around the injury for a moment. With a breath, she released. “That’s why I need this to go well.”

The boys, they were all she had. The last connection to Dis. The last connection to everyone. Kili, he was a Durin through and through. He carried their colours, their smile; the sense of humour that always reminded Thorin of Frenin. Fili took after his father more, had the same angles and eyes, but his hair was wild as was his heart. He was their little lion. The name, usually teased on her father’s lips, made her heart clench.

She’d never hear that again.

But with pain brought anger. It simmered and she ground her teeth together, as if that was the only way expel it. Perhaps Dwalin knew that, because he didn’t say anything, merely played with his fingernails absentmindedly. Thorin watched his hands, used the metaphorical process to make sense of what she was feeling and spoke.

“Did Balin speak to his friend? The lawyer?” Thorin pressed.

“You promised you wouldn’t worry about that stuff,” Dwalin grumbled.

“I lied,” she confessed, “Tell me.”

There was silence for a long while, Dwalin staring stubbornly at the space above her head and Thorin gazing back, her patience fraying with each passing second. She may have burst – screamed, demanded, begged, cried, all of the above – if Dwalin hadn’t conceded with a sigh.

“Yeah, he spoke to Grey. He’s agreed to take the case.”

Thorin had expected relief at the words, but it only made her blood pump faster. She rolled her jaw, nodded sharply, and questioned. “Balin said he’d call. He didn’t.”

“He didn’t want to come to you before he has the answers you want,” Dwalin responded, and Thorin could understand that. Even now, the questions whirled around her head until the words became just white noise. It gave her a headache. She rubbed at her temple, irritable.

Dwalin added, “Just let Balin handle this. He knows what he’s doing.”

Thorin knew that. Balin had been a paralegal in Lothlorien, before he had joined as manager of Erebor Tech back when Thorin and Dwalin were still kids. She’d never doubted the man’s judgement, just as she had never doubted her father’s, but the words felt like placates and she’d had enough of those.

“I need to know,” Thorin hissed, barely managed to keep her voice down.

“Focus on getting better,” Dwalin insisted, “Focus on those boys. They need you.”

Thorin snapped, “Why do you think I’m doing this? It’s _their_ father, _their_ uncle, _their_ grandparents that are _dead_. It’s _their_ mother that might _never_ wake up. It’s why they don’t have a home! They need _justice_!”

Eyes trailed to them then, she could see it. Conversations died a little, and not even Bombur’s sudden aggressive handling of the equipment could stop the cold chill that suddenly wrapped around the space. For a moment, Thorin could only hear the pumping of her blood in her ears. It felt as if the world was zeroing in, watching her, _pitying_ her, and she rejected it with every fibre of her being. She didn’t need their pity. None of them did.

Dwalin, he hadn’t looked at her like that, not even when he had first seen her after the fire. Loud, disgusting tears, soot covered hands, the smell of searing flesh under nose. He’d held her and hadn’t said a word. Now, he acted as if the conversation hadn’t risen to the public sphere, gaze reflecting her rage back at her. It was oddly steadily.

“And they’ll have it,” Dwalin vowed, “You all will.”

Thorin closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. “Tell him to call me. I don’t want to be left in the dark.”

There was a noise of agreement. She heard a chair scraping, the table startled beneath her, heavy footsteps. When she opened her eyes, Dwalin was gone. Thorin stared at the place he had once been for a long while before she reached for her drink.

It was cold.

~

If Thorin was honest, she hadn’t given much thought into exactly what Miss Baggins would be like. In the grand scheme of things, the woman was just something that Thorin would have to deal with, if she wished to see her nephews. Maybe she had thought about the matron at her bordering school, or the smiling faces that were on the handout that Bard had given her as she sat in that hospital hallway.

The woman who arrived, she supposed, could fit into that category.

She pushed through, the bell above the door announcing her entrance, bundled up in her scarf and hat pushed down over her eyes. She hesitated in the doorway only for a second to scan the space, before moving determinedly towards Thorin.

Thorin hunched, tension pulling from the base of her neck, but the woman pulled the hat to reveal dark messy curls, and smiled over at her. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Thorin blinked once. “Miss Baggins?” she tried, uncertainly, and the woman nodded.

She stood up, reached out with her hand to shake. “Thorin Durinson.”

The hand was accepted. “I know.”

“From Bard?”

Baggins shook her head, already releasing her hand to pull the scarf from her neck. “You look like Kili.”

Thorin corrected, “He looks his mother” and then pressed her lips together so she could say no more.

Thorin caught the glint of pity in her gaze and had to bite down on her urge to snap something that would almost definitely ruin the impression she wished to give. She sat down heavy, gestured to the seat before her and curled her hands around the empty mug. Baggins obliged, shrugging her coat from around her shoulders to reveal a slightly dirtied jumper. Thorin stared.

Baggins flushed when she noticed. Her fingers ran over the marks and attempted to brush them away. “I work at a garden centre – I was replotting today. Some of those winter flowers are awfully high maintence.”

Thorin nodded and didn’t offer any comment. She watched the woman wriggle from a moment, getting comfortable. Silence dragged, and Thorin had to do something to fill it.

“Do you want a coffee?” she blurted, rougher than intend. Aggressive, a small part of her mind supplied, not good. She shuddered a breath and repeated the question softer.

“Oh, um, yes please-“Baggins said, and Thorin stood up quickly, needed to put some distance between them to think clearly. She couldn’t mess this up, she couldn’t. She squirmed in line, went to her pocket and counted out correct change to ease her tension. The queue was short, and all too soon she was at the counter.

Bombur’s eyes darted between her and Bilbo, and she smiled widely, encouragingly. It was reassuring just as much as it was irksome. “What can I get for you?”

Thorin’s lips parted and her mind drew a blank. It took another moment to realise why. Red blossomed high on her cheeks, her hands clenched with frustrated embarrassment at her sides. She took a glance to Baggins, could only imagine just how _incompetent_ she appeared, but the woman was still smiling, amused, _mocking_ , and pointedly made a show of tapping the table top.

“Black,” Thorin uttered, glanced at the coins in her hand and added, “Small.”

When she returned, steaming mug in hand, Thorin steeled herself to ready for more of that pity. But Baggins just murmured her gratitude. Thorin took her seat once more, watched how Baggins let her eyes fall close when she breathed in the steam that curled upward. She sighed pleasantly, and took a sip. She made a pleased sound and opened her eyes. She caught Thorin’s gaze and appeared bashful.

“My father always used to say that the first time you try new coffee beans, you should try them without sweeteners, because if you need something to mask the taste, they weren’t very good to begin with,” Baggins informed with an indulgent smile, answering a question that Thorin had never intended to ask.

Thorin hummed because she knew little other ways to feign interest. “I’ve never had better coffee myself,” she commented, “Dwalin only has the best.”

“Your owner friend?” Baggins questioned, and Thorin nodded once. “Extend my compliments,” she told him, and took another sip.

Thorin didn’t accept or refuse her request, not that the other woman seemed aware of this. She held the cup in her hands for a moment longer, before she settled it in front of her on the table, interlocked her hands together. Her expression flattened and Thorin felt indescribably on display. She sat up a little straighter in response. To business then.

“How are you?” Baggins spoke.

“Fine,” Thorin responded instantly, realised that it was too fast a reply and latched on, “I just miss the boys.”

Baggins hummed. “And they miss you. Fili was rather insistent that you would be able to get in contact.”

Thorin snapped, “I wouldn’t leave them.”

“Good. I would leave you this moment if that were the case,” Baggins told smoothly. “Kili and Fili were placed in my home for their care, and it wouldn’t be very appropriate to allow such heartbreak in their lives, would it?”

“They have enough of it,” Thorin muttered. Her eyes itched and she blinked the feeling away. Her voice raised the next time she spoke, stronger than before. “What do you require of me?”

“An agreement,” Baggins informed.

Thorin’s eyebrows rose. “An agreement of what?”

“That we both do right by those boys,” she continued. There was a pause, where Thorin nodded once and the rest of the conditions followed. “Regular contact – supervised at first, and once I’m sure, afternoons, day trips, whatever you wish. No false promises. If something comes up – work wise, health wise, you tell me and we reschedule. Sound fair?”

Thorin jerked her head once more. “Is that all?”

“For now,” Baggins promised, and settled back, her expression becoming pleasant once more. “So, Miss Durinson, tell me about yourself.”

“Thorin,” she corrected, “call me Thorin. Miss Durinson always makes me feel older than I am.”

Baggins’ smile widened slightly, made her eyes crease at the edges. “Very well. Call me Bilbo.”

Thorin rolled the name over in her mouth a few times, before nodding amicably. They were on the same page then. She leant back in her chair, rubbed thoughtfully at the space at the hollow of her neck and asked, “What would you like to know?”

“Anything you wish to tell me,” Bilbo answered. She lifted her hand and angled her wrist to reveal a watch hidden beneath the sleeve of her jumper. “We have about 23 minutes before we should make a move. Start from the beginning?”

The beginning was a long time ago, nearly 38 years, but Thorin decided, the past was indefinitely better than the present. And so, leaning back in her chair, she spoke to her avid audience.

~

Despite Bilbo’s insistence that they didn’t have to, Fili wanted to go to school. It was what was supposed to happen, what would have happened if the fire hadn’t come, and he craved that sense of normal. So he had dragged himself from his brother’s side to sit in his classroom and pretend.

No one else seemed to want to do the same. Everyone he had spoken to had asked, had commented, had looked at him with the same sad eyes that the nurses had when they had asked if their mother was going to be okay. He didn’t want questions, he didn’t want ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, but it was what he had got. By first break, he had turned his hearing aid off and kept his head down. If anyone else tried to talk to him – and he was sure they had – he wouldn’t have to listen to it. It made the day a little more bearable, although during lunch, he had wished that Kili was allowed into the Junior’s playground with him. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

And he wondered whether Kili was getting the same treatment.  He didn’t have an aid to switch off, no way to block out the words. Kili was emotional, he could snap in a second. Whenever he was outside, Fili sat so he could see the gate that separated one side of the school from the other. He figured, if Kili was feeling the same way, maybe he’d come there to try and get a glimpse of his brother. He hadn’t.

Fili didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved for a school day to be over, but taking his bag from the hook just reminded him it was Bilbo that had smiled at them that morning, had asked whether they had everything they needed, and had packed their lunches. He scowled at his feet, and when Mr Lindr started to lead them outside, Gimli had to tap him on the shoulder to draw his attention lest he get left behind.

Stepping into the yard, parents and guardians stood and waited. Last week, his father would have been among them. He was a clockmaker, and didn’t work the same strict hours their mother did, so the duty to pick them up fell to him. Sometimes if orders were coming in thick and fast, he would bring little things, and fiddle with them as he stood in the yard, but he was always there.

Not anymore.

Fili’s chest felt tight. No, it wouldn’t be his father today or any other day coming. Only Bilbo. Reluctantly, he raised his head to look for her. It wasn’t difficult – through the space in the bodies, she stood out with her yellow hat and scarf that was too big for her small frame. She was talking to someone, and Fili’s eyes passed there, out of curiosity more than anything.

He saw the mass of black hair first, then a familiar crooked nose, and bolted. He weaved around legs and ducked under arms, made more than a few people startle wildly to get out of his way, but he didn’t care because _Aunt Thorin was here_.

She saw him a second before she received him. Maybe Fili had been afraid that he would be met with distaste – she left him, left them, gave them to Bilbo – but those disappeared as soon as she grinned at him. She dropped to meet him, and he flung his arms around her shoulders, pushed his face into her neck and held on like she would disappear in an instance. She smelt like metal and cold, like she always did, and sterilisation, something that made Fili’s nose sting. She enveloped him with large arms, and a hand cupped the back of his head. A comforting gesture, one he was familiar with, and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed it.

Fili opened his mouth, wanted to greet, but something less shook his throat, had his eyes watering, so he just clung tighter. Thorin’s chest rumbled underneath him but he couldn’t hear what was being said, didn’t care too much because the vibrations were enough to show him she was real. He rubbed his face into the furs of her coat.

Fingers pressed against the curve of his ears, and noise came back to the world all at once. It was disconcerting, to become so clear after so much distance, and he angled his head into his shoulder to muffle the irritation.

When Thorin laughed, it hummed in his chest, his ear, and the hand on his hair stroked affectionately. “What have I told you about turning your hearing aid off,” she teased.

And in the end, that was what made Fili cry.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have tumblr [@belladonnatooks](http://gladers.co.vu) if you wish to talk!
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


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